


Jaro

by EclipseKuran



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Can be read a platonic JastObi, I just wanted to make something that hurt a bit, It's sad before it's happy, JastObi, M/M, Mandalorians want Obi-Wan, Pre-JastOBi, Suicide Attempt, Whump, i think, not qui-gon jinn friendly, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseKuran/pseuds/EclipseKuran
Summary: Jaro, the Mandalorian word for a death wish, or insane act of reckless stupidity.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Jaster Mereel, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Jaster Mereel
Comments: 70
Kudos: 696
Collections: Anything But Qui-Gon, Problematic but Beautiful





	Jaro

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: SUICIDE ATTEMPT
> 
> If this makes you uncomfortable or something to that degree, please don't read. Take care of yourselves, people.

It was high.

Obi-Wan leaned over the railing, staring into the endless void of Coruscant, mesmerized by the fading lights as the view transitioned from the upper levels to the lower slum of the city. The building he was atop was completely ordinary, no special features, just a slab of duracrete with a deep drop if one were to fall off.

He wasn’t even sure a Jedi could save themselves if they were to fall, no matter how liberal their use of the Force. There were no hover cars to grab onto, nor any protrusions from the surrounding buildings, not even enough distance to boost to the building across the way. Unless there were wings or a jetpack involved, there wasn’t a being alive that could survive the fall without some sort of immortality.

Planting the sole covered bottom on one foot to the back of another, Obi-Wan kicked off one boot before reaching down with deft fingers and prying his foot from the remaining boot. He picked the pair up, carefully rearranging them at the foot of the railing, tucking a rolled flimsi and his lightsaber in one for someone to later find.

The newly knighted Jedi hopped the railing, leaning back from the edge as he held tightly to the rails. Losing his grip would lead to his death.

He tipped his head up to gaze at the light polluted sky of Coruscant. There were barely any stars visible, only a few nearby planets shining through, along with some star cruiser circling the orbit. It was such a lifeless planet to Obi-Wan.

But that same lifeless planet was home to his family, the Jedi.

They had been back less than a tenday from Naboo and her disaster. Miraculously, his Master - former, miraculously, his former Master survived their encounter with the Zabrak Sith and returned to train Anakin. He was knighted and his master immediately took Anakin on as a Padawan with much bullheading to the Council.

Obi-Wan was knighted.

Obi-Wan was knighted because he was ready.

Obi-Wan was knighted because his Master thought he was ready.

Obi-Wan was knighted because his Master thought he was ready even though he had been insisting he wasn’t just days before.

Obi-Wan was knighted because his Master thought he was ready even though he had been insisting he wasn’t just days before finding the nova in the Force called Anakin Skywalker.

Obi-Wan was not ready.

Killing the Sith at the Naboo reactor was used in place of the traditional Trial that every Knight took, giving Obi-Wan the title - the stigma - of Sith Slayer. The first to defeat a Sith after thousands of years with their absence, the defeat of an enemy once thought defeated.

Yet Obi-Wan didn’t feel ready.

His lungs burned and his diaphragm ached from the tears he had shed just hours before when his Master, his former Master, took on a padawan mere minutes after Obi-Wan was knighted. He hadn’t even cut Obi-Wan’s braid, only giving him a nod before rushing out the Knighting Room in favour of the Padawan Selection Room.

Master Windu offered to cut his braid, but Obi-Wan declined, instead roughly shearing it off with a pair of clippers in his room, his former room that was going to be Anakin’s, and dropped the coil of hair to the floor. He collected his meager belongings in a box and left them with Quinlan before heading out.

They wanted to throw him a Knighting party, but Obi-Wan declined that too.

The knuckles of his fingers turned white as he clenched the railing harder to lean forward.

His heart was racing.

All he had to do was let go and that would be it, that would be the end of Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, former padawan of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. That would be his end and there likely wouldn’t be a recognizable corpse once he met the abrupt stop to his freefall. The only indicator would be the DNA in the blood splatter or the boots with flimsi and his lightsaber left behind.

Obi-Wan Kenobi closed his eyes and let go.

And he was falling, the air blasting past his face as he cut a wedge in the still air. It was so loud, he almost didn’t hear the shout above him.

He fell.

And he fell.

And he continued to fall.

He continued to fall until he didn’t.

The wind was knocked out of him when his stomach made contact with some sort of bar, a cursing bar that he slowed his descend until it began to descend once more. He didn’t dare open his eyes, not even when his feet were firmly planted on the ground and the bar around his waist tightened.

“ _ Jaro _ !”

His eyes snapped open at the foreign word.

_ Death wish _ .

Looking up, he was met with the red rimmed t-visor of a Mandalorian. The helmet’s vocoder did nothing to hide the heavy breathing from its wearer. Obi-Wan was almost afraid to see the look on the other face as the Force was heavily tainted by rage and… what felt like concern? Whatever it was, he was grateful the helmet was on, but he doubted it would stay that. One could hope.

“What do you think you were doing,  _ Jetii _ ?” It was a Concord Dawn accent. Obi-Wan could tell through the vocoder, knowing only because his own accent when speaking Mando’a tended to lean more towards the rougher timbre than the dulcet tones of Sundari’s accent.

“I…” His voice was caught in his throat. How do you explain to someone you jumped off a roof to become one with the Force? How do you explain it when only good things have happened? His Master - former, he reminded himself once more - former Master survived what should have been a fatal blow, the Naboo were freed and the Trade Federation chased off, and he was finally knighted after years of apprenticeship.

He shouldn’t be feeling the way he did.

“I-I…”

And he finally broke. Obi-Wan Kenobi finally broke like a dam holding back a flood, tears cascading faster than he could stop them. His hiccups filled the air as he tried to stifle his tears, but he couldn’t, only making his breakdown even ugly.

The sound of something metal hitting the ground rang in his ear, but he didn’t get the chance to look as he was pressed into the tall Mandalorian’s shoulder. Unaltered words of comfort spilled past the man’s lips as he held Obi-Wan. His head was peppered with kisses for reassurance.

It all came spilling out. From the moment Qui-Gon told him he wasn’t ready before the Naboo mission, all the way to where he was now. Even his struggles to become a padawan, Melida/Daan, his year on the run on Mandalore, all of it. He poured his heart out to a complete stranger and it felt right, as though the Force wanted this meeting to happen.

Silence befell the two, only interrupted by the occasional sniffle from Obi-Wan, though the young Jedi eventually looked up to meet his rescuer’s - if that’s what he could be called - eyes and saw a pale blue staring back at him. Blond hair flat and at odd angles was indicative of a classic case of helmet hair, but it suited the man.

“Leave them.”

What?

“Leave them and come with me. They don’t deserve you.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help, but gape. “And you do?”

“I will prove it to you,  _ verd'ika _ . Come with me and you will find a family that will always be there for you, not treat you like a pawn or abandon you to the whims of an  _ utreekov _ to sate their own agenda. Let me take care of you, a soul with more  _ Mandokarla _ than those born Mandalorian,” the man declared with such conviction, Obi-Wan could not help but be drawn in.

The Force whispered this was the way. It urged him forward.

_ Change _ , it whispered,  _ Go _ .

“I would have your name first, Mando?”

The man carded gloved fingers through Obi-Wan’s short hair. “Jaster Mereel, the current  _ Mand’alor _ and leader of the  _ Haat Mando’ade _ . And you,  _ verd’ika _ ?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He nodded and leaned down to press his forehead to Obi-Wan’s, making the redhead flush. “I won’t let you feel this way ever again, Obi-Wan. I will take care of you.”

The Force could only sing with happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to make something that hurt for some reason, but still ended happy. I don't know why, but stories with depressed/suicidal Obi-Wan always appeal to me for some reason. I think I like reading someone picking up the pieces and helping him heal.
> 
> I hope this blurb was okay. I really love Mandalorians seeing Obi-Wan and being like "dibs" or "he's ours now".
> 
> It's late and I just want this posted. You're all smart people and I'm going to assume that, if you're shipping this, you've seen enough common Mando'a words, so I'm going to skip on translations sine there are so few.
> 
> Comments are highly appreciated!


End file.
